


Erase

by bethfrish



Category: House M.D.
Genre: Crossdressing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-05-11
Updated: 2005-05-11
Packaged: 2018-02-21 12:12:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2467862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bethfrish/pseuds/bethfrish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Forgetting your past can be convenient.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Erase

Between the writhing bodies and the smoke that keeps rising towards the ceiling without ever really disappearing, you catch sight of the one you want. 

Pretty little thing, barely even twenty, perched on a stool in the corner and snorting enough cocaine to buy you a new pair of pants. Hair dark and shadowed in the dim light, could be blond, could be brown, could be red for all you can tell, but the lighting in this place is crap so all you can tell for sure is that it's hair. Slender frame, strong, smooth thighs that taper into muscled calves, rubbing up against the legs of the barstool like she knows you're watching. Leather skirt that keeps inching up higher and higher as she leans forward with her straw, and god wouldn't you like to see what's hidden under there. 

You start to make your way towards the back of the room, licking your lips as she throws back her head and laughs. You're going to take her to the bathroom and fuck her brains out, or maybe make her fuck you, you haven't decided. That brushed-back hair looks softer and silkier than anything you've ever wrapped your fingers around, but it doesn't hide the Adam's apple protruding from the white, supple skin of that baby's neck. 

You feel a hand graze your backside as you pass through the crowd, but you only turn around and hiss, "Not tonight, buddy." He gives a look like you think you're the shit, but moves along anyway. 

You get to the table in the back and the guy with the coke kit glares at you. "You want in too?" 

"Yeah," you say, catching her eye and lowering your gaze to her crotch while she's still watching you. "But not with that." 

She spreads her legs slightly and grips the barstool in the space between them. She doesn't say anything, just stares at you and spreads her legs further when she sees the way you're admiring her thighs. 

"You got a name?" you ask. 

"None that I'd tell you." Husky voice, an accent. Not-quite-British. Sexy, you think. An added bonus for when she's screaming your name into the wall. 

You reach over and run your hand over one of those dolled-up cheeks, but she grabs it and digs her nails into the back of your hand. "Presumptuous asshole, aren't you." That accent again, that fucking accent that makes your cock twitch. When you look at her she's glaring at you, but there's a fire in her eyes that flickers no and yes at the same time, and you're pretty sure you can guess which one's real and which one's the façade. 

You grin and reach your other hand around and place it over the bulge in her skirt. "You wouldn't be here if you weren't looking for some presumptuous asshole." She inhales sharply, her eyes narrowing. "But you can call me James. It's shorter." 

"James." She lets go of your hand and slides off the stool. She's practically the same height as you. "It'll take more than that to get me," she whispers smoothly in your ear. "But we have all night." 

You smile. "I love a good chase." 

"Well then," she says, taking a step back and smoothing down her skirt. She turns and heads for one of the back rooms, swinging her hips that much extra because she knows you're watching. "Your choice couldn't have been more appropriate." 


End file.
